Star Wars © Lucasfilm.
Wrecker was having another nightmare.
They had been happening off and on for weeks now, ever since Tech and his brothers had nearly failed a battle simulation. Crosshair had been hurt when Wrecker had charged off, ignoring Hunter's command to cover Crosshair's advance to a higher vantage point, both unaware of the practice droid waiting at the top of the tower.
The droid's shot stunned Crosshair as he was scaling up the wall, from a height that their agile brother could not recover from, and the snap of Crosshair's leg still haunted Tech's memories. Wrecker had blamed himself for their brother's injury and had been unusually quiet ever since.
It was undeniably strange to hear the loudest of their group be as quiet as Crosshair. Tech had only known Hunter, Crosshair and Wrecker for two months, but he already understood a great deal about each of them. He recorded every conversation he had with his brothers, and had a backlog of video and audio clips of his brothers training, laughing and comforting each other.
All three knew that he recorded everything they said and did, memorized every tic and inflection of voice, though only so that Tech could ground himself in the knowledge that all three were there for him.
He wanted to remember the sound of Crosshair's laugh after one of Hunter's rare jokes, wanted to remember the difference between an angry Crosshair and a mild, teasing Crosshair. Needed to remember the sound of Wrecker's voice when he was upset, so that Tech would know when his oldest brother needed a distracting discussion about planets or ships or explosions. And his growing library on Hunter's sensory enhancement reminded Tech of how easy it was for Hunter to be overwhelmed and shut down.
Tech wanted to be able to rewind his clips and watch as Wrecker and Hunter slapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him on their first successful simulation run together. His memory was impeccable but his memory didn't bring the sense of happiness as the audio clips of his brothers' voices did. Memories didn't chase away his nightmares like the soothing sound of his brothers' laughs did.
His recordings were multi-faceted, a means for him to help himself and his brothers. He knew it wasn't wise to wake Wrecker out of a nightmare by touch, for he'd seen Hunter slammed into the opposite wall of Wrecker's bunk a few nights ago when his brother attempted to wake Wrecker. Crosshair had finally woken Wrecker when he used a long broom handle to jab their largest brother in the ribs.
Wrecker had been relieved and had hugged Crosshair in thanks - Crosshair had stiffened and snarled at the touch - until he saw Hunter, struggling up from the floor. Tech knew that Wrecker wasn't dumb, and the instant guilt and worry in Wrecker's eyes as he watched Hunter stagger to his feet had only cemented that fact further.
Since that night, Wrecker had been reluctant about accepting any comfort from his brothers, and Tech had already found out that playing music or ambient sounds did nothing for Wrecker's stress. Tech wanted to help Wrecker, but he didn't know how - and neither did Hunter or Crosshair.
He heard Crosshair move from across the room and, rudely, jabbed Wrecker awake with the broom handle the sniper had taken to propping against the frame of his bed. Wrecker grunted and growled at Crosshair, an angry curse the kindling for Crosshair to yell back at their oldest brother.
Hunter let out a groan from his bunk next to Tech, then slipped out of bed, rubbing at his eyes as he joined the two arguing clones and attempted to soothe their argument before it escalated further. Tech watched his three brothers, noting the tired slump of Hunter's shoulders become ever more pronounced as Crosshair's voice pitched lower and lower - that was Crosshair's furious voice.
The argument was soon joined by Hunter's frustrated voice and it was then, with his datapad shoved to his nose, Tech tried to tune out his brothers' yelling. He still felt too new to the group to try and defuse their arguments, for there was a significant fear underneath his smiles and cheerful voice that was afraid that Hunter, Crosshair and Wrecker would tire of Tech's presence.
But they wouldn't tire of him if he was able to make Wrecker something for his nightmares. Crosshair had a hard time falling asleep, so the sniper treasured every second of sleep he got with a vengeance. Crosshair was mad at Wrecker for waking him, but Tech was sure Crosshair knew Wrecker never woke him on purpose.
Wrecker was the jokester of the group, but Tech had never seen Wrecker maliciously joke at his brothers' shortcomings. Wrecker knew better than to wake Crosshair, and Tech had actually observed him make an effort to be silent when Crosshair was asleep.
Crosshair had a temper normally but that irascible attitude had only been amplified by his recent injury. An irritable Crosshair and a nightmare plagued Wrecker did not bode well for a peaceful end to this argument.
And, all the while, Hunter was attempting to mediate between the two seas clashing against each other. Tech could tell Hunter was getting more and more exhausted, as his voice had turned raspy and dull of its normal edge.
His head must be killing him with all of this noise...
Tech… was just hiding in his bunk, too afraid of upsetting his brothers or intruding on affairs he did not yet feel fully welcome to, waiting the storm out. He didn't like sitting around, hated it, while his brothers fought.
If there was something he could do to help Wrecker…
His eyes shifted back to his datapad and the live link it had to the holonet. He'd hacked Kamino's firewalls ages before, gaining access to the free galaxy wide holonet and its endless stream of data.
Tech's fingers flew over the screen, his brain processing each search result and article with lightning speed. Wrecker was happiest when one of his brothers shared their bunk with him, the closeness of human contact seeming able to fend off Wrecker's nightmares.
But Tech wasn't the right person to seek physical comfort from, and neither was Crosshair. Tech wanted to help his brother, but he could not choke down the uncomfortable rush of heat that came up whenever someone touched him to resort to that form of comfort. It was selfish to think that he couldn't pick his brother's comfort over his own personal feelings, but there was too much hurt that came with physical contact.
Wrecker needed something tangible, and Tech and his brothers could not spend every night sharing their small bunks with Wrecker. There had to be something that could substitute for Wrecker's brothers, an object that could ground Wrecker in the physical here and now…
Most articles proposed acquiring a pet, but Tech knew a pet would be impossible. The Kaminoans would never allow a living creature into Tipoca City, no matter what Tech to hack into the supply records. That was a very solid no.
One article smugly suggested therapy, which made Tech roll his eyes, for anyone needing comfort. The writer's words were arrogant and bled superiority - unsurprising coming from a Coruscant socialite. Tech ignored that one, though he could not help but write a dissertation in the comments about the writer's veiled self-loathing and, with feigned concern, suggested the writer go to therapy himself.
Tech almost had to snicker when he was blocked from commenting on the author's page and even IP banned from the author's entire site. The truth hurts, doesn't it?
Article after article offered up ideas, most of which were impossible - no, Tech could not smuggle Wrecker off to an amusement park! - and some of which Tech knew he could not sneak past the Kaminoans. He was moving to pass over an article about child rearing when his eye caught on the article's headline picture.
A young Pantoran child was snuggled up alongside a stuffed toy, a bright blue narglatch with shimmering felt that seemed to glitter, even through the holonet's imagery system. The article spoke about the Pantoran child's father's struggle to help his child cope with the loss of his mother, and how there had been no improvement in his son's temper until the father - desperate for any solution - bought the young boy the narglatch toy.
The boy had, by his father's words, improved over time and had even opened up around the father's family after months of playing and cuddling with his toy. The rest of the article went into statistics and studies done on the benefits of having a stuffed animal, including the sense of security they brought to their owner and numerous improvements to mental health.
It took only a few searches for Tech to find a site with downloadable stuffed animal patterns of practically every species of creature in the galaxy, of which he downloaded a few designs he thought Wrecker might like. Then he turned to materials acquisition.
He needed a felt or fabric that would be able to survive Wrecker's rough handling and yet soft enough that it would not be an irritant - Tech didn't want to have Hunter handle the stuffed animal and have a sensory overload doing so. It had taken hours for Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker to soothe Hunter, the last time Hunter's senses had overloaded and made the group's leader shut down.
Tech scrambled through site after site, fabric shop after fabric shop, until he found just the right material. It was hardy but soft, made from materials based on Kashyyyk for young Wookies. It would do.
Cautiously, Tech opened up the files he had hacked into for Kamino's supply and requisitions, affording him the ability to look over incoming shipments and to purchase materials - on his psychologist, Ke Bril's, account - and supplies on the sly. He hadn't been caught yet, but Tech was careful about how much he purchased and when he purchased his supplies.
Ke Bril tolerated Tech, for a Kaminoan, but he knew in his heart that she would decommission him on the spot if she knew what he had access to. Quirking the tiniest of smiles, Tech thumbed through pending vendor purchases and shipments until he found the right shipment.
It was a shipment request of fabrics, medical supplies, food supplies and much more. It was varied enough that a simple purchase of fabric would not be noticed as an odd addition to the purchase order-
His mattress moved.
Tech jumped, datapad hurled from his hands as he scrambled backwards into the walls of his bunk. Fear bumped ice through his blood as he whirled on the source of the disturbance-
Hunter was resting on his mattress with his right hand raised towards Tech, gaze worried as he slowly lowered his hand to Tech's mattress. Tech stared at Hunter, heart rate slowing as his older brother's presence focused itself within his mind, though it took a few seconds for him to realize that Hunter looked displeased.
Tech fidgeted under his brother's piercing gaze, guilt knifing through his chest when he realized that Wrecker and Crosshair were both asleep in their bunks across the room. But Hunter wasn't...
"Tech…" Hunter let out a tired breath as he rubbed at his eyes with his right hand. "I can hear you tapping away on your datapad even in my sleep. It's 0300 now… please, go to sleep?"
The exhaustion and pain in Hunter's voice only furthered Tech's guilt and he couldn't help but notice that his throat felt dry as he nodded in response.
"Sorry, Hunter," he whispered, unable to even look at his brother for the shame burning in his chest. "I didn't realize how late it was… I was just… Sorry…"
"Don't apologize, I know how stressful it can get listening to the arguments," Hunter sighed, before he gently picked up Tech's datapad and held it out to him. "But staying up all night won't help. Got that, little brother?"
Tech took his datapad from Hunter slowly, his eyes shifting to the unsent amendment to the textiles shipment, then relented with a nod. He processed the edited shipment in the same swipe that turned off his datapad.
Hunter made a gruff noise before he patted Tech's mattress one more time, and backed away from his bunk. "Goodnight, Tech."
"Goodnight, Hunter," Tech whispered as he snuggled under his blanket and attempted to sleep.
A ping from his datapad drew Tech's attention from his brothers, currently busy arginine over the best kind of rifle, and to the tiny notification that had popped up on the datapad's screen. He shot a glance towards his brothers before he tapped the notification.
Shipment 3-779865-2 has arrived at hangar D and is ready for inspection and unload.
Tech's eyes widened as he recognized the bill of lading number that had been assigned to the shipment of materials he'd adjusted. The materials for Wrecker's stuffed tools had arrived!
"I forgot something in the armory! I need to go get it. See you back home," Tech lied as he leapt up from the cafeteria table, careful to avoid Crosshair's scrutinizing gaze, and bolted from the cafeteria.
He heard Hunter shout his name, order him to wait, but Tech could not wait - nor did he want his brothers to know what he was doing. Tech ran past other cadets and Year Nines, dodging Kaminoans and medical droids alike until he reached hangar D.
The hangar door was open, revealing the large supply shuttle and the clones busy unloading the ship. The receiver was marking each item removed from the ship individually, checking each for damages or shortages. Tech waited for a moment to steady his breath then, applying the same confident walk he always saw Crosshair use to great effect, strode into the hangar.
He blended into his surroundings, checking packages and helping count alongside his brethren until he was situated directly behind the receiving manager. The Year Nine was checking a pallet of medical supplies, pushed up by another Year Nine clone, closely before he waved off the shipment.
"Don't rush this time, Pillbox," the receiving manager snapped as the clone with the medical supplies headed out of the hangar.
Pillbox waved dismissively in response, much to the receiving manager's chagrin. The older clone sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, then turned back to the bill of lading he was surveying.
Tech took a step towards his brethren when the man's gaze snapped to his position. Tech froze in place at the intent way his older brethren was staring at him but, with shaken confidence, he smiled and pointed to the bill of lading.
"I am here to pick up Ke Bril's supplies, please."
"Oh," the receiving manager smiled, "always on time, aren't you, kid? Your shipment has already been off-loaded, over there."
Tech glanced in the direction the older clone was pointing, saw the shipment and the bolt of fabric laid on top of it, thanked the receiving manager, then hurried over. A cursory glance showed the bolt of fabric, needle and thread, and the stuffing material he'd purchased. Tech activated the shipment's hover lift and hurriedly pushed it out of the hangar, careful to act as normal as he could as he pushed the shipment towards Ke Bril's office.
Before he reached Ke Bril's office, Tech stopped at a disused maintenance closet - he'd found it when he was a Year Four and trying to hide from a few of his usual bullies - and quietly slipped his, frankly illegal by Kaminoan standards, bolt of fabric, stuffing and thread into an empty cabinet. He didn't want any of his brothers to find out about what he was making, least of all Wrecker.
Tech wanted to surprise Wrecker, to see whether his oldest brother would appreciate the stuffed tooka pattern he'd settled on or not. He could not explain, or quantify, the feeling of worry and anxiety that flooded his chest at the idea of Wrecker disliking the stuffed tooka. Tech hoped such a reaction was unlikely from Wrecker, but he did not know Wrecker's quirks nearly as well as Crosshair and Hunter did.
Tech chased away the unwelcome thoughts with a shake of his head, unable to fake a smile as he left the maintenance closet and headed once more to Ke Bril's office. All he wanted was to see Wrecker smile, to feel that addicting swell of pride that filled his chest whenever his brothers complimented him. He just hoped it was possible.
The tooka took weeks to make, with Tech only able to sneak away for minutes at a time to work on his brother's gift. Crosshair had cornered him once and questioned Tech on his odd behavior, but Tech had spun a convincing enough tale about extracurricular classes that the sniper had moved on. For how long, though, that Tech was entirely unsure of - Crosshair seemed to make a habit out of being unpredictable.
But none of his brothers had discovered the true nature of Tech's disappearances, and so he worked in complete peace.
His datapad was open to a tutorial video on sewing, more for background music by now than any real sense of gained knowledge, while Tech carefully looked over his finished tooka toy.
He had picked a black fabric for the body, with red fabric adorning the paws of the toy and its long ears. Wrecker always said that red and black were his favorite colors, so it was only natural that those were the colors Tech had chosen. Tech had used white paint on the front of the tooka to resemble a face, with a scowl that he realized he'd subconsciously patterned after Crosshair.
A smile quirked across his mouth as Tech ran his fingers over every thread, every stitch and then pressed against the body to test its stuffing stiffness. Wrecker did not have Hunter's sensitivity to the feel of objects, but he complained nonetheless whenever something didn't accommodate to Wrecker's overly large body.
Tech had dissected more pillows than he could count to find just the right firm softness in the tooka's stuffing. He'd overstuffed and understuffed - courtesy of pillows he stole from Raze, who bullied Tech for the pleasure of it - until Tech had found the sweet spot by making Wrecker use the restuffed pillows over his normal one.
Wrecker couldn't sleep with the overstuffed pillow and he had flung the understuffed across the room in a fit of rage. Those had been easy throw outs in Tech's tests, and ones he wasn't too overly surprised by. Wrecker wasn't as picky as Hunter, but he was still very picky about how he slept - picky enough that it had taken a week and two days for Tech to find something Wrecker tolerated.
Tech needed everything to be right, every stitch to be unnoticeable and smooth, everything had to be perfect. Tech was a perfectionist normally but, in all matters relating to his brothers, he would rather stay up for days on end attempting to do something right, rather than risk their possible judgments. Tech tried to tell himself that it was illogical to be so worried, to think so negatively of his brothers' opinions of him, but he couldn't help it. Hunter, Crosshair and Wrecker were the first of his brethren to be nice to him, to show Tech that they liked having him around, and he valued that too much.
He just hoped Wrecker would like his tooka. If he didn't?
A nervous chuckle hissed from Tech's lungs as he checked the tooka over again, worrying at its ears and fabric and face paint, as thoughts of Wrecker's rejection plagued his thoughts. He had finished the stuffed tooka five days ago, but had not mustered the fortitude to face his oldest brother's possible rejection.
Tech wanted to believe that he'd be able to brush off such a rejection but, underneath the walls of coldness that had been forced upon him by his handler, Sullo Pria, he knew he wouldn't be able to. He hoped he'd be able to hold in his tears around his brothers long enough to find somewhere private to cry, because he knew he'd cry if Wrecker rejected his gift, but doubt niggled at him.
You have to face the possibility, Tech, he chided himself as he slowly gathered himself to his feet and, with the stuffed tooka shoved inside his uniform, as close to his chest as he could get it, left the maintenance closet.
Fear hammered in his heart as Tech hurried down hallways, eyes scanning constantly for his brothers-
A hand slammed over his shoulder, jerking Tech to a stop before he was yanked off his feet and slammed against the hallway wall forcefully. Pain splintered down his spine as cold, brown eyes and an overly familiar face, now marked with scars along his chin and nose, glared up at him.
"Hello, Raze," Tech bit out, "I see you still don't understand the benefits of brushing your teeth. How unfortunate that we aren't meant to be fighting living organisms, for your breath alone could dispatch us of our enemies with little effort."
Raze's face scrunched up with displeasure at Tech's comment, his eyes narrowing as he moved his right hand to Tech's throat, and leaned into Tech's space. Tech tried to turn his head away from Raze's, but he couldn't move much more than a few centimeters because of his brethren's tight hold on his throat.
"Bold now that you have other freaks who like you, aren't you, Weirdo?" Raze snarled.
Tech opened his mouth to retort when he felt Raze's gaze shift to where he'd stuffed the tooka underneath his uniform shirt. A smirk arched across Raze's face as the larger clone jabbed Tech in the stomach and smirked.
"Hiding something from us, Weirdo?" Raze cackled as he forcibly pulled up Tech's shirt and pulled the stuffed tooka out. Raze's eyes glittered as he dropped Tech to the floor, though he still had his left hand on Tech's shoulder, and held the tooka out to the clones behind him - Raze's pack of bullies, all of whom followed Raze around as if he was some sort of god - and laughed.
"Weirdo's got himself a toy," one of the pack members snickered as he snatched the tooka from Raze and, roughly, pulled at the stuffed tooka's ears. "How cute."
"Give that back!" Tech spat as he thrashed under Raze's grip, hands clawing for the stuffed tooka. If they damaged the tooka…
The pack of clones continued to pass the tooka amongst themselves, pulling at its ears and feet and laughing at the pouting scowl Tech had given it, their harsh catcalls and taunts digging deep into Tech's insecurities. He tried to not be bothered by his brethren and their jeers, but that was far easier said than done.
"Give it back, please!"
Raze's gaze shifted down to Tech at his demand before the clone snorted, his ever present smirk even more prominent than usual. "Why? Need it to comfort you at night? Are you scared? You need a toy to chase away all those scary nightmares?"
Tech grabbed for Raze as the clone was passed the tooka, but Raze's foot on his chest slammed Tech into the wall once again, knocking the wind from his lungs with a pained exhale. Raze turned the tooka over once, twice, three times, then, with a suddenness that was too swift for Tech to see, ripped the right ear off the tooka.
Stuffing and fabric fell at Tech's feet, littering the durasteel flooring as Raze and his pack cackled, snorted and let out uproarious laughs. Anger surged through Tech, filling his veins with a fire that was so unlike himself, as he lunged upwards, fist slamming into Raze's sneering face.
Raze stumbled backwards from the hit, tooka falling from his hands as the taller clone staggered to a stop and stared at Tech. None of Raze's pack made a move towards Tech as he snatched up the fallen tooka and let out a feral hiss towards his brethren.
How dare Raze!
Tech's anger subsided into hurt as he slowly ran a hand over the tooka's torn ear, the stuffing falling from the torn fabric, the stitches - the hours and hours of meticulous stitching - torn and hanging limply from where the ear had been moments before. Heat pricked at the edges of his eyes, stinging and too hot as his throat swelled.
He couldn't cry in front of Raze and his pack, damn it, Tech! Brave up!
Tech never saw Raze's fist until he was on the ground, jaw sore and mouth bleeding from where he'd bitten his tongue. Raze punched him again and again, his pack howling behind him, encouraging their leader-
The sound of bone cracking, and the noticeable fact it was not Tech's bones, drew Tech's gaze up from where he'd curled into himself.
Wrecker had Raze pinned to the ground, fist repeatedly smashing into Raze's face, while Hunter and Crosshair were whaling on Raze's pack. A kick from Crosshair sent one of the pack member's sprawling into his brethren and, without waiting for Raze, the four clones bolted, hightailing it away from Hunter and Crosshair.
Hunter bent down beside Tech, hands gently moving underneath his shoulders as his older brother helped Tech to his feet, gaze concerned and deeply worried. "Tech? Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," Tech muttered, far too embarrassed to even look at Hunter as he pulled the stuffed tooka closer to his chest. He felt Hunter's fingers run gently across his chin, wiping at the blood still trickling down his mouth, before his brother moved and sat down beside him.
Hunter's hand moved, wrapping around Tech's shoulder as he gave him a gentle squeeze, then, slowly, Hunter picked up the stuffed tooka. Hunter's eyes shifted towards Tech, those ever observant eyes shifting up and down Tech's frame carefully.
Tech hunched his shoulders inward and let out a sigh. "I made it for Wrecker… I was going to leave it in our room but Raze stopped me. I... I'm sorry…"
"Sorry for what?" Hunter sounded confused, his gaze snapping to Tech's face for a long moment before his older brother pulled Tech closer to his side. "You didn't do anything wrong. Raze's dislike of you is not your fault, little brother. That's all on him."
Tech looked towards Hunter, fingers threading over the stuffed tooka as Crosshair and Wrecker both kneeled in front of him, their expressions just as worried as Hunter's. Crosshair kept glancing down the hallway, his eyes narrowed and lips turned down into a deep, soundless snarl, but he stayed still, not moving an inch further from Tech.
Wrecker laid a large hand on Tech's shoulder and smiled at him, though his oldest brother kept looking down at the tooka with a curious, excited expression. "Did you make that, Tech?"
Tech nodded, not wanting to risk speaking anymore, should his brothers hear how upset he was, and pulled the tooka closer to his chest. He couldn't give Wrecker the damaged tooka, not when the perfectionist inside him was screaming to be let out - to hide the tooka from his brothers until he could mend each and every tear-
The weight of the tooka vanished from his hands just as Wrecker let out a surprised gasp and an overly excited squeal. Tech chanced a glance up to see Wrecker hugging the tooka, a giant smile on his face and tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, before he shoved the tooka at Crosshair.
Crosshair scowled and shoved Wrecker away from him with a sneer and a roll of his eyes, though Crosshair did not seem to move with as much vehemence as usual. Wrecker shoved the tooka at Hunter, who tried to refuse the stuffed toy, until Wrecker practically smacked Hunter in the face with the tooka.
Tech shot Crosshair a glance as Hunter looked over the tooka, a small, almost minut smile tugging at his lips, and was met by sharp, watchful eyes. Crosshair jerked his chin towards the tooka then to Wrecker, his question unsaid but there in his eyes and the curiosity sparking behind them. Tech nodded slightly and was met by a smile.
But then Crosshair's smile vanished as his expression turned serious and aloof once more and his gaze turned towards Wrecker. "Wrecker, give the toy back to Tech. He doesn't need you slobbering all over it."
"B-but, I like her!" Wrecker protested, mouth turning into a pout as he finally relented and handed the tooka back to Tech.
Crosshair raised an eyebrow as Tech slowly took the tooka back from Wrecker and self-consciously covered up the torn fabric with his left hand. Wrecker sat back on his heels and pouted, arms crossing over his chest as Crosshair picked up the torn ear and passed it to Tech.
"Tech needs to fix the toy, Wrecker," Crosshair stated sharply, "then I'm sure he will let you have 'her' back."
Wrecker perked up at that, his eyes snapping to Tech and the stuffed tooka in his hands before he shyly - always an odd look on Wrecker - reached out a finger and gently brushed it down the tooka's fabric. "I love her. Can we name her? I want to name her Lula. Can I? Please, Tech?"
Tech blinked, eyes shifting between Hunter and Crosshair - both of whom shrugged unhelpfully - before he looked towards Wrecker and shrugged. "If you want to, Wrecker. I… I made her for you… to help with your nightmares… If you're sure you-"
Wrecker's arms went around Tech in a hug that engulfed his entire body, and he was lifted off the ground as Wrecker buried his head against Tech's shoulder. Tech blinked, stunned, arms hanging to his side as Wrecker continued to hug him.
Wrecker finally released Tech when Hunter, quite pointedly, ordered Wrecker to release their youngest brother. Wrecker sighed as he lowered Tech so that his feet were once again able to touch the floor, then slumped his shoulders- but only for a short moment.
There was barely a second before Wrecker started peppering Tech with questions about the tooka, prodding him for how he'd acquired the supplies, when he'd made it, how long it had taken him, always interspersed with comments on how much Wrecker loved "Lula" and couldn't wait to cuddle up with the stuffed tooka - torn ear or not.
Wrecker talked and talked as Tech and his brothers returned to their room and Tech started to repair Lula, Wrecker watching over his shoulder with wide eyes and so many questions. Tech didn't know how to react, what he was supposed to feel, at Wrecker's response to the tooka - he hadn't expected this… but it made Tech's heart swell with joy and warmth.
His brother liked the tooka, and had even named her, and he had not missed the way that Crosshair watched Wrecker and Tech jealously. Hunter was left to smile as he settled in for the night on his bunk, low chuckles escaping from Hunter as Wrecker excitedly tried to assist Tech with his stitching, only to be chased off with a wave of Tech's hand and a glare.
When Tech finished stitching the torn ear back onto Lula, he handed her to Wrecker and smiled. Wrecker smiled back then hugged Tech again, ignoring the instinctive way Tech flinched at the physical contact, before he thanked Tech and, with Lula in hand, leapt onto his bed.
Tech watched as Wrecker pulled the tooka close to his head and buried his nose into her belly, his smile easily visible over the black fabric. A wave of relief, as powerful as Kamino's ocean storms, washed over Tech as Wrecker's snores filled the room and, for the first night in weeks, Wrecker slept without a nightmare.
Tech didn't even realize that he'd fallen asleep at his work table until he felt Hunter gently prod him awake and whisper his name. Hunter helped Tech to his bunk then, before Tech could protest, ordered him to show his bruises and injuries.
Reluctantly, Tech did as ordered, lifting his shirt to reveal a rash of black and purple where Raze had kicked him in the ribs and stomach repeatedly. Hunter let out a sigh and shook his head before he pulled out the medkit and started tending to Tech's injuries.
"Next time, Tech, let me tend to your wounds before you repair something, alright?"
"Yes, sir," Tech sighed, embarrassed at his brother's reprimand as Hunter continued to ministrate to his wounds.
Hunter let out a low chuckle and shook his head as he applied bacta strips to Tech's cut lip. "Wrecker sure loves Lula, you know that, right?"
"Yes, I do," Tech whispered, unable to stop the flush of pride and embarrassment that colored his cheeks.
He'd made Wrecker happy with the stuffed tooka. He'd actually made Wrecker smile after weeks of his oldest brother's stony frowns, and Hunter was proud of him. Happiness filled his chest, chasing away some of the insecurities that always lingered in his chest as Hunter finally finished tending to his injuries.
Hunter returned the medkit to its place on the wall then returned to Tech's bunk, where he shoved his way in and curled up beside Tech. Tech froze, startled at the intrusion, but Hunter was warm, and a steadying presence, and he could not help but to curl up against Hunter and burrow his face against Hunter's shoulder
"Goodnight, Tech."
"Goodnight, Hunter."
They were his brothers and, just as Tech knew he'd always be there for them, he understood that Hunter, Crosshair and Wrecker would always be there for him too.